On not falling apart.
On not running after him and demanding to know what that was, why he's doing this, how he can act so normal when my entire world is tilting.
"Ingrid?" Magnus appears in the doorway. "Food almost ready? The kids are getting restless."
"Five minutes," Magnolia calls. "Tell them to wash their hands and sit down like civilized humans."
He grins, disappears.
I pull the lasagna from the oven, hands shaking slightly.
"You okay?" Magnolia asks quietly.
"Fine."
"Liar."
"I'm fine," I repeat, more firmly. "Let's just get through dinner."
And man, dinner is complete chaos.
Thirty-plus people crammed into the main room and kitchen, plates piled high, conversations overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls.
I serve food, smile at jokes, and accept compliments on the lasagna.
Act normal.
But I'm hyper-aware of Gunnar across the room.
The way he talks with Hakon and Ulf.
The way he laughs at something Aren says.
The way his eyes find mine across the crowd and hold.
Every time our gazes meet, I remember.
His hands on my skin.
His voice in my ear.
The way he looked at me like I mattered.
The way he whisperedsweet girllike it was my name.
I help clean up, wiping down counters, loading the industrial dishwasher.
Magnolia works beside me, humming softly.
"You survived," she observes.
"Barely."
"He's still watching you."
"I know."
"You gonna talk to him?"
